Finally, She's a Mom
by DioLink
Summary: A requested fic for Sick Dean and Mama Winchester.
1. Disclaimer

Disclaimer

This was a request fic for dean40girl. I hope I did your idea justice.

Happy Birthday!


	2. Story

Finally, She's a Mom

For nearly their entire lives, Sam and Dean have only had each other. During school, at home, on hunts, it was always Dean and Sam, Sam and Dean. So, it was only to be expected that when they got sick, the other would step up to help out their brother. Surprisingly enough, Sam was usually the sick one and Dean, of course, would care for him.

"Drink this, Sammy."

"Here's some soup."

"How you feelin'?"

His brother would pass up a lot for Sam. Hunts, flings, and even deep fried, double cheese, double beef, and double bacon deluxe cheeseburgers. Dean had sacrificed a lot. So, Sam was more than willing to help out his big brother when _he_ got sick. Dean, however, was not the easiest patient.

"I don't want any damn soup."

"Medicine is for pansies and children."

"Stop asking if I'm fine, I'm drinking, aren't I?"

This time was different though. Dean had been holed up in bed for a few days now, panting, shaking, pale as a corpse, and constantly moaning in pain. By this time in his illness, Dean would be trying to prove how fit as a fiddle he was. He'd do push-ups, beer-binge, and inhale food so oily they could have struck it rich. He hadn't done any of his normal rebellious acts though.

He just slept.

Sam rung out a tattered cloth he had salvaged in the bunker and pressed it to his brother's face and neck. Dean didn't even seem to notice as he continued to sleep through the shivers it produced. He would occasionally groan weakly, but that was the extent of his interaction. Other than that, he was both still and silent; a rarity for Dean.

Sam had called Cas, he thought maybe the angel could use his never-ending healing powers to help Dean out. But their feathered friend had yet to call back. Dean was going to have to fight this cold off the hard way. The only other reinforcement Sam had was….

"How's he doing?" The younger Winchester looked up to his mother in the doorway of Dean's room. Relief flooded him to the brink of tears.

"Mom." He stood to greet her, hugging her tight. Sam had never had this chance with his mother. He had never been sick before or seen Dean sick when she was around. He didn't know if she would be able to help or be any good at caring for her brother. Yet the thought of 'Mom' just made it seem like everything would be alright.

"That good, huh?" Mary released her youngest to sit on the edge of Dean's bed. Her first born, her little man. She brushed back the few locks that had stuck themselves to his forehead.

"I don't know what to do." Sam said, he was almost pleading with his mother. Like she was a goddess that could take it all away with a single breath.

She looked from her eldest back to Sam and took his hand. "It's okay. We'll tackle it together." She had such a mixed sense of worry and pride for Sam. Both gentle and strong, he reminded her so much of her late husband, John. "Here." Going into her pocket, she pulled out a bundle of cash and set it in Sam's palm. "Go get orange juice, soup, and medicine. I'll take care of Dean."

"Mom, you don't have to-"

"Yes, I do. Both of you could be 100 years old and I would still have to." She smiled at her youngest son. "I have your brother. Go get these things for him, okay?"

Sam was reluctant but agreed without another word. He left, only pausing in the doorway to look back at his pale and fever-stricken brother. With a quiet, "I'll be back soon," he was gone.

Once Sam had left the room and shut the door, Mary got up to hover over Dean. She checked his skin on his face, chest and neck, and pulled the blanket up to his ears to help him stop shivering. Though his fever was very high, leaving him open to the cool bunker air wouldn't help. Sam had had the right idea with the cloth.

She picked up where her son had left off, wiping Dean down to help level out his fever, it didn't seem to help much. She felt so powerless in that moment. Mary Winchester, Mary Campbell, was a hell of a good hunter. Her boys were as skilled as she was, and here a tiny little germ was what made her feel weak. Watching it take out her eldest, while all she could do was watch and wait until his body could fight it off. Her poor boy.

She jumped when Dean's eyes snapped open and he grabbed her wrist hard. He was looking at her, but his eyes went through her to something she couldn't see. He was panicking and only tightened his grip as he did. It took a few second until Mary realized he was dreaming. His eyes were open, but he wasn't aware that he was awake, and whatever he was seeing was frightening him. It was most likely a product of his fever.

She cooed sweet nothings to him and pulled his grip off one finger at a time, a bruise left in its wake. "It's okay, Dean. You're okay." She soothed, coaxing him to lie back down and rest. "It's okay. You're okay. I'm right here. You're safe." She honestly didn't know if it was working, or if he was making his way through his open-eyed dream on his own. Whatever the case, he was resting back shortly after and sleeping quietly again. She continued to wipe his skin.

About an hour after, Sam had returned with all the things Mary had asked for. He entered Dean's room to find his mother combing her fingers through Dean's hair. Dean was asleep on her lap with his face turned towards her body. She looked up at Sam and held a hand out for the bag, to which Sam obliged. There were a couple of bottles of OJ, a box of stove top chicken noodle soup, and three different kinds of cold medicine. Mary looked each over before handing Sam the box of soup. "Can you go make your brother some? I'll hold on to the rest." Sam nodded and left again, pecking his mother's cheek before he did. Mary touched the spot relishing in the fading warmth until it was gone. She then turned her attention to Dean.

"Dean." She called to him, "Dean, it's time to get up. I need you to wake up and take this. C'mon." Wiggling her arm under her son, she eased him to sit up, his eyes only opening half way. She handed him the OJ and two pills, which he took without a word, then thumped back over in her lap once they were down. It would take a little while till they kicked in, by then Dean's soup would ready.

She hummed as she stroked the hair on Dean's head thinking of the first cold he had ever got at one and half. How stuffed up his little nose was and how he crackled every time he breathed. She had wished so desperately that she could teach him how to blow his nose. But he would only take the tissue, wipe his nose – not well mind you - then give it back and continue on playing. A cold wouldn't stop him from his little toddler adventures. She smiled at the memory. Toddler Dean was a determined as grown up Dean.

It was amazing how much she had missed. It was as if she had gone to sleep the night before, and when she woke up, her three-year-old and six-month-old were grown men. Out and saving the world...and her husband, John, was gone. She blinked and the life she so desperately wanted was left behind her. She never even had a chance to enjoy it.

"Mom." Dean groaned, she looked down to her son. "I'm happy you're here."

She smiled at him. "I am too, baby." And she really was. Yes, a lot of things had changed, and she had much to learn. Yet, she was able to be here, now, with her kind-hearted and strong-willed children. She was here with Dean and she was here with Sam. Though she missed all those moments when they needed her to kiss a boo-boo, cut of their crust, or care for them when they were sick, she was able to do it now. She was able to love them now.

"You were right, Mom?"

"Hmm? Right about what?" She asked petting her son's hair.

"I had angels watching over me. I had you watching over me."

Mary smiled. Though she couldn't remember her afterlife she was sure it was true. Who else would she watch over? "Yes, you're right." She resolved. "I _was_ watching over you."

"Mom?" Dean groaned again after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, baby?"

"I love you."

Mary felt almost giddy. She hadn't heard Dean say that to her since he was three. It was a given that he loved her, just like it was a given that she loved him. Hearing it made it feel real though. Like she truly was a mom and these wonderful men really were her children.

She leaned forward and kissed the side of her son's head. "I love you too, Dean."

Sam would return shortly with Dean's soup. Mary would coax Dean to sit up and eat every last drop. That would be their routine for the next few days until Dean would be back on his feet. They would go on with their ways, Mary hunting her way, the boy's theirs. Though they may work apart, and see each other less than liked, she would always be there for them. She would always be there for Dean and she would be there for Sam. She was their mother after all, and she was damn proud of it, and she was even more proud of them.

Finally, she was able to be their mom.


End file.
